Part 20 (1/2)

”Look at Murray! Is he proud of her, or is n't he?”

”Proud as Lucifer. And has a right to be. His mother looks pretty complacent herself. And Olive--she's stunning, as usual. But our Jane--”

The time to go forward had arrived. With head up and shoulders squared Peter led the way. As he pa.s.sed his host and hostess he was a model of well-trained propriety, but when he reached Jane and Murray his formal manner relaxed, and he grasped each hand with a hearty grip.

”You're a delightful pair,” he murmured, ”and the sight of you takes me off my feet.”

”You look perfectly composed, even bored,” retorted Murray, laughing, glad to greet a brother who could be relied upon not to say the usual thing.

But Jane whispered as she smiled up at him, ”I 'm dreadfully frightened, Petey, and I can't do it well at all.”

”Keep on being frightened, then,” advised her brother. ”The result's perfectly satisfactory, is n't it, Murray?”

”You're not really frightened?” whispered her husband, taking advantage of a slight lull in his duties to detain Peter. ”She does n't look it, does she?”

”Not a bit.”

”You 've only to look at mother,” was Murray's comforting a.s.surance, ”to know that she's entirely satisfied. If she were not--well--she'd look different, that 's all!”

CHAPTER II

s.h.i.+RLEY HAS GROWN UP

As Peter Bell abruptly rounded the corner from Gay Street into Worthington Square he saw coming toward him an attractive young figure in a white frock. He glanced at it and away again; then back, as he came nearer; once more away; then returned to look steadily, positive that his second impression had been the right one, after all. It must be that he knew this girl. If he did, he must give her a chance to recognise him.

She not only recognised him, she smiled outright, and stopping short held out her hand. The eyes which were laughing at him were eyes he had surely seen before.

Peter's hat had come off promptly; when she stopped, he stopped. When she held out her hand he took it, and stood staring down into the merry eyes with puzzled interest.

”O Mr. Peter Bell!” she jeered softly. ”To be so slow to recognise an old friend--a connection of your own family. Dear, dear, you should go to an oculist! Has it been coming on long? Can you still distinguish trees and houses?”

The voice told him who its owner was, though it was a degree richer in quality than when he had heard it last, two years before. ”s.h.i.+rley Townsend!” he cried. ”Miss s.h.i.+rley, I mean, of course. Well, well! No wonder I---- When did you come? And you've grown up!”

”Of course I have. Has n't Nancy grown up? I 'm a year older than she, too. And I came last night--a whole month before they expected me. I was supposed to be going to stop in New York with Aunt Isabel for a month--after two long years away off in England at school! But Marian Hille's mother met her at the s.h.i.+p--she 's the girl who went with me, you know--and they came right along home. I could n't stand it to stop in New York, and I came with them. And you don't mean 'Miss s.h.i.+rley' at all, of course--with Jane married to Murray!”

”Then you don't mean 'Mr. Peter Bell.'”

”You look terribly elderly yourself. But I knew you! The mere fact that you are not wearing the same clothes you were when I went away----”

”It was n't your clothes--except the extension on the length of them.

It was--it was----”

”I understand. My hair is up. I no longer wear two big black bows behind my ears.”

”Your cheeks,” protested Peter. ”You--the English air, I suppose----”

”No, I 'm not a pale little, frail little girl any more, thanks to miles and miles of walking. You don't look very frail, either. Are n't we delightfully frank--after staring each other out of countenance? Is Nancy at home, and Mrs. Bell?”

”They 'll be delighted to see you.”